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Clack... clack... clack...
The rhythmic strike of high heels against the floorboards was unmistakable. The female ghost was right behind him, and Childe was paralyzed by indecision. Should he dive into the bathroom? Should he stop by the radio to listen for clues? Should he sprint for the door to the next loop? Or... should he turn around?
No. Every instinct he possessed as a warrior screamed at him: do not look back. If you look back, you are already dead.
Li Mo watched Childe's frozen character from the counter, a joyful smirk playing across his lips. This seventh cycle was the ultimate trap. If a player wasn't perfect in their execution, Lisa would ensure they never made it out. In this loop, you couldn't hide in the bathroom, you couldn't stop for the phone, and most importantly, you could never turn your head. Lisa was tethered just a few inches behind the player's back; the moment the camera panned even slightly toward her, it was over.
Childe was sweating profusely, his heart hammering against his ribs as if it were trying to escape. He stood perfectly still. Although the sound of the high heels had stopped, he could feel a faint, icy breath tickling the back of his neck and hear a low, wet moan.
"Calm down... calm down," he muttered to himself. "She hasn't killed me yet. There must be a trigger I can avoid. I'll just go to the end of the corridor first."
His mind was a chaotic mess, but he forced himself to move. As he stepped forward, the sound of the high heels resumed in perfect sync with his own.
Slap... slap... slap...
Every step hit Childe's ears like a drumbeat of doom, tightening the knot of anxiety in his chest. The short distance to the end of the hallway felt like a trek across a thousand miles of tundra. He finally reached the stairs, scrambled down, and grabbed the doorknob leading to the next cycle. He gave it a violent turn.
Childe's expression shifted instantly to one of utter despair. The handle wouldn't budge.
The onlookers behind him let out a collective gasp of dismay. It was a dead end. A locked door in front and a vengeful spirit behind.
"It's over... I'm done for..."
Childe's hands and feet felt like blocks of ice. He could almost visualize the mocking, bloody grin of the female ghost right behind his shoulder, waiting for him to realize he had nowhere left to run.
"What do I do? What do I do?"
He trembled, caught between the urge to stay facing the door and the desperate need to see his attacker. Perhaps the ghost was just a bluff, an illusion that would vanish if he confronted it head-on? It was a gamble, but at the moment, he had no other options.
Childe gritted his teeth, his pulse reaching a dangerous limit, and whipped his character around with a sharp motion of the mouse.
That horrific, distorted grimace occupied his entire screen instantly. Childe let out a yell of pure terror as the ghost lunged.
"I'm not playing this anymore!"
He tore the virtual headset off his face, his rationality completely depleted. Li Mo couldn't help but feel a sense of professional pride. It didn't matter if you were an Executive of the Fatui; once you stepped into a 21st-century horror game with full virtual immersion, you were going to be humbled. Without any weapons to fight back, very few people in Teyvat could withstand that level of psychological pressure.
Childe slumped back onto the sofa, trying to steady his breathing. He felt a wave of profound grievance. The mighty 11th Harbinger had been reduced to a shivering mess by a woman in a hallway. Worse still, he could hear the muffled laughter of the locals.
"Wait, isn't that guy one of the Fatui Harbingers?"
"It is! I think he just arrived in Liyue recently."
"I thought those Fatui types were supposed to be ruthless killers. Why is he so timid?"
"Well, you know what they say: don't do bad things and you won't fear ghosts knocking at midnight. He must have a very guilty conscience."
"Actually, he's braver than me. I wouldn't have even made it past the first loop."
Childe listened to the commentary and wished a hole would open in the floor and swallow him whole. He couldn't let this stand! He couldn't allow the reputation of the Tsaritsa and the Fatui to be dragged through the mud because of a scary hallway.
He glanced at the monitor and saw the other icon: "Digging the Ground for Ascension."
He had heard the others talking about it. A game of pure perseverance. A test of a big heart and a rock-solid mind. Wasn't that exactly what he excelled at? He had survived the Abyss through sheer iron will; surely a game about a man in a pot was something he could conquer.
He would reclaim every bit of his lost dignity here. With a determined click, Childe launched the game.
Li Mo watched with inward glee. Childe had just climbed out of one pit only to dive headfirst into another. Comrade Childe truly was a generous man; he was providing enough emotional value to keep the cafe's business thriving for weeks.